If you don’t believe me, count the number of storage facilities in your zip code. We own so much stuff that an entire industry has mushroomed up around housing all of our crap, all of the stuff that has grown beyond the boundaries of our own homes.

Do we need it?

Is it necessary?

Probably not.

While talking to someone near and dear to me the other day about the amount of stuff we all have, she said she always asks herself the following questions when considering adding to her possessions:

Do I need this?

Will I use it?

Do I have to have it now?

Can I do without it?

Mindblown.

Because I generally suck at this and want to buy every shiny new object I see in the Brookstone catalogue, I am challenging myself to ask these questions before the next time I reach for my wallet. Because in this culture of conspicuous consumption, even being aware of these questions can help us be mindful about the choices we make, the trinkets we purchase, and the cubic inches we fill with our American Dream detritus.

If we ask ourselves these questions, and put them into practice, we will not only save some Dead Presidents, but we may also just create just a little more space in our lives for the things that really matter.

When I looked up, I realized my family members were assembled in the kitchen, staring at me.

They were staring at me because they were well-acquainted with my 2017 commitment to decluttering.

“Yes,” I said, clearing my throat and screwing up my courage. “I threw it away. We have a new knife set and the paring knife was from the old one. I didn’t think we needed it.”

Silence.

“We did.”

***

I’ll spare you the details of the conversation that ensued, but I wanted to share the solution with you—which, as it turns out, was an excellent idea that came from my youngest daughter.

She said, “Why don’t we get one of those big, clear bins from Target and set it in the corner of the room and throughout the week each of us can put stuff in that we think we don’t need or want anymore and then once a week we can all go through it and empty the box, either by throwing the stuff away, dumping it in a pile for a garage sale, or putting it back where we got it from if someone still wants to keep it. That way we don’t get rid of anything that someone else wants to keep.”

Before you can say Minimalism, she and I were in the mini-van on our way to Target, where we bought a clear, white bin that is now sitting in the corner of our living room and already has stuff in it. Naturally, the goal would be to declutter so much that, eventually, we get rid of the bin as well! But until then, no one will feel like his or her possessions will be thrown away without permission and/or approval. And we've agreed that every Sunday, we will all meet and take some time to go through the box. This Sunday will be our first attempt at this new household decluttering ritual, all because of a $12 bin from Target.

And you know what else I got while we were at Target?

Yup.

A new paring knife.* TZT

*This is actually a very important point when it comes to decluttering. There WILL be times you get rid of stuff and go for it later. But I promise you that, much like the paring knife, there is very little that cannot be immediately and inexpensively replaced. But checking with family members is a good way to avoid trashing sentimental or irreplaceable items. But if a paring knife brings back particularly emotional memories, perhaps you have more pressing issues than decluttering. :)

Sometimes it only takes two minutes to create a ritual that will increase your sense of focus, simplicity, and tranquility.

That "Little* Ritual" can be at the beginning of your day, in the middle of your day, or at the end of the day.

Totally doesn't matter when it happens.

Matters not when you take it.

But take it.

Because Little Rituals are the building blocks of Intention and Radical Self-care and before you know it, insisting on Little Rituals will create bigger rituals that create a better you.

But don't take MY word for it.

Watch the video*

Then try it yourself.

Then let me know how it works. TZT

* I know I said "small rituals" in the video, but I like the title "Little Rituals" better. :)

**It is actually LESS than 2-minute Zen. The video clocks in at about 1:50. Surely, you can carve out 1:50, no matter busy you are. Read four less Troll-scribed comments after that MSNBC or Fox News article and there you have it!

If we’re still enough, we can start to listen to those little leadings that occur very deep inside us.

No, not those leadings. . .Try to stay with me.

I’m talking about those impulses we get that tell us whether or not we should do something.

Or not do something.

I’m talking about those little voices that say things like:

“Take the job”“Move to Florida”“Do NOT date that guy. He lives in his mother’s basement and has the largest collection of Brady Bunch memorabilia in the continental United States. Bad move! What about Brent in accounting? He seems nice.”

Some call this conscience.

Some call this a "gut reaction.”

Some simply call this a “hunch.”

But really, what everybody is talking about is a little thing called intuition.

Intuition is a knowing, an insight, or an understanding of circumstances that happens seemingly without conscious reasoning.

But as a society, we are very practical and we poo-poo the idea of listening to our inner wisdom. Especially in education, we want facts, data, smart goals.

But you know when your classroom needs a makeover. Or when a lesson needs an adjustment. Or when a student needs something that the state testing scores just haven’t unearthed.

You just know. . .But how?

In addition to your experience, your common sense, and your professional judgment, gifted teachers stop and listen to their intuition—even if they can’t articulate why—because they know those little voices are picking up on data we cannot experience consciously or sometimes can't even put into words.

But gifted teachers learn to listen.

Here are some things you should know about intuition:

*It’s usually right.*It’s a muscle that can be built and toned*Listening to it takes practice*It wants to help you.*It often takes stillness and silence to get it to come to you.*It’s patient, but it isn’t loud*It waits for you to be still, to value silence, to want to listen.

So as we move into this new school year, remember that in addition to using your teaching experience, your common sense, and your professional judgment, please also remember to be still and listen to your intuition.

Because while it will whisper when you least expect it, you can rest assured that it will whisper.

As we move toward the end of the school year, the need for intentional and radical self-care becomes even more critical as our professional obligations and responsibilities increase and the calendar opportunities for fun and downtime dwindle.

But that’s why I’m here: to remind you to take care of YOU.

Recently, I saw the meme pictured above* on Facebook and I thought it was an idea that my fellow Zen Teachers should hear about and learn to embrace. So I want to spend some time here sharing why I think you should have a date with yourself just as soon as you can manage it. A recent edition of Brainpickings.com, discusses psychoanalyst Adam Phillips' idea of “fertile solitude” and Brainpickings.com says it is “absolutely essential not only for our creativity but for the basic fabric of our happiness — without time and space unburdened from external input and social strain, we’d be unable to fully inhabit our interior life. . .”

All true. Plus, it's fun.

So if you take the leap and make a date with yourself, here are 6 suggestions about how to have an awesome time taking care of yourself and discovering the beauty of “fertile solitude.”:

1. Clear your schedule and turn off your phone. First of all, no one is going to give you time fora date with yourself, so you’ll have to schedule it yourself. Be brave enough and strong enoughto lift the pen to your kitchen calendar and mark it in. Then, at the appointed time, leave your ball and chain (read: cell phone, Blackberry--are they even a thing anymore?--, iPad, or other personal deviceturned off and shoved in a drawer). Recently, writer Elizabeth Gilbert posted on her Facebookpage that she was going to do a “digital sabbath,” and spend the weekend unplugged, and I thought this was a marvelous idea.

2. Take a bath or shower and think only about great it feels. Bubble bath? Essential oils? Foo-foo lotion on your skin.? All of it can be such an amazingly mindful experience, for both women AND men.Being mindful during a bath or shower can be incredibly invigorating and rejuvenating. In fact, I wrote anentire chapter for The Zen Teacher about the sensuality of a mindful shower, but wiser minds prevailedand I was asked to cut it so that the publisher didn’t get slapped with an NC-17 rating. Nevertheless,consider being mindfully present and luxuriating during your next bath or shower and you’ll definitelyunderstand the benefits of this approach.

3. Change into your coziest pajamas. It took most of my life before I realized that I don’t have totolerate clothes that are not comfortable. I’ve had itchy shirts, baggy pants, saggy socks, andpinchy shoes. No more. Now I wear loafers most everywhere I go because they’re like slippers,blue jeans are like a second skin to me, and I slip into my pajamas whenever I can, and havinga date with oneself is the perfect time to wear comfortable clothes. In truth, I’m probably only ahalf-step away from pants with elastic waistbands and sandals with black socks, but who cares?

4. Cook up your very favorite treat. If you read this blog regularly, it’s no secret that my favorite treat is hot, buttered popcorn in a big bowl, usually accompanied by a rom-com or documentary on Netflix or some Joe Cocker from my Classic Rock playlist on my phone or boombox. But for you, of course, it can be anything: Rice Krispie treats, cupcakes, oatmeal raisin cookies, a lemon meringue pie, or raspberry turnovers. The key is return over and over again to your favorites. Your date with yourself should pamper all of your senses, including your culinary ones.

5. Make a list of what you love about yourself, and what you’d love to achieve. Some of us dothe second part, but almost NONE of us do the first part. Your date with yourself is a time tocelebrate YOU. If you were on a date with a significant other and wanted to score some points,you would almost certainly spend some of that time signing his or her praises. No different here.Extend that kindness to your current date (that’s YOU!) and show that date some sugar.

6. Celebrate the things you already are, and make the plans to turn the rest into reality. Wow, TWO suggestions to honor and compliment ourselves. I’m sure you’re all like, “Slowdown, Turbo!”, but we do it so infrequently that perhaps we NEED two nudges to really make it happen.Being alone and celebrating ourselves are often two things that couldn’t be LESS accepted in oursociety. So if you put them together, you’ll probably get a front row, window seat on the Weirdo Train.So what? Do it, anyway.

Use these suggestions as is or modify them to your own needs and rhythms. How you approach your date is up to you. But one thing I want you to understand is that you are an awesome person. So as this school year winds to a close, don’t forget that you deserve to take some time for you.

No one is suggesting that you be lazy, irresponsible, or self-indulgent. We just want to see you take care of yourself so you have the passion and energy to continue your best work. We also want to see you recognize your own worth and the worth of spending some quality time with yourself so you can continue to give more to the others who are special to you. TZT

*

ZEN TEACHER ACTION STEP:

I challenge you to do exactly what #5 suggests. Make a list of ten things you love aboutyourself. Scary, I know. But keep in mind that no one needs to see it but you. Also keep in mind that there’s a difference between vanity and a sense of self-worth. Vanity is not healthy, whereas Self-worth is indispensable. As teachers, we often confuse the two. Now go be nice to you.

*Forgive me for not citing an original source, but this was just a meme on the Internet and, well,you know how that goes.

*Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in awhile, you could miss it.” --Ferris Bueller

2016 is the 30th anniversary of John Hughes’ iconic film Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. During its run, I was lucky enough to be working at San Diego's Cinema Grossmont, one of the city's only remaining single house theaters in San Diego in 1986. During the day I attended drama classes at San Diego State University where, as aspiring thespians, we learned about breathing, focus, meditation, and being in the moment. Then at night, I would wander into the theater in my brown polyester uniform, Goodwill tie (we had to supply our own), and a takeout box of stolen popcorn and spend my break watching as Ferris Bueller tried to instruct his best friend Cameron on the importance of noticing what was going on around him.

I didn’t know it at the time, but this was a huge part of the genesis of my work as a Zen Teacher. And so now, to celebrate thirty years of the wisdom of a boy who realized that life moves pretty fast, I would like to share with you, in no particular order, twelve things I learned from Zen Master Ferris.

THE TWELVE ZEN TENETS OF FERRIS BUELLER

1. Sometimes you just need to stay home.*2. Singing in the shower is a kind of enlightenment.3. Wearing a suit for no reason sometimes makes things better.4. Making your hair into a mohawk in the shower isn’t weird, it’s fun, and you should do it more often.5. Sometimes it’s even MORE fun to stay home and enjoy when you’re SUPPOSED to be somewhere else.6. If you’re in the parade, you might as well enjoy it.7. Sometimes you just need to stop and look at a painting, simply because it’s beautiful.8. If you get an opportunity to ride in a bitchin’ car, you take it.9. Sitting still during the song “Twist and Shout” is nigh on to impossible.10. If the authority figures don’t understand why you’re doing what you’re doing, that’s okay.11. If the world was more accepting of self-care, we wouldn’t need to lie to our parents.12. If you identify more with Cameron, you need to find your Ferris.

As I crunched on my illicit corn all those years ago, I internalized the zen qualities of our hero and made it my mission to listen to my own impulses when they said, “Slow down. Take it Easy. Don’t forget to stop and look around for awhile,” because Ferris was right—if we don’t, we might miss something.

Ferris Bueller’s Day Off is not only a warm and fond memory of mine for its humor and charm as a film, but because it is an object lesson about stopping the Carousel of Life and being mindful and noticing all of the beauty and art and meaningful people all around us—even if the hair isn't quite as poofy and clothing styles are a little less Day Glo-y than they were thirty years ago.

So these days, when I’m feeling stressed or overwhelmed or my intuition says it’s time for a little break, I find myself asking one thing. . .

WWFD?

Living by this acronym may not be a foolproof plan, but on the other hand, it’s been three decades and it hasn’t failed me yet. TZT

Sounds like the beginning of a Biblical story, doesn’t it. In reality, though, it’s just the approximate length of the rest of the school year.

But that’s Biblical enough, isn’t it my Zen Teacher frirends?

And while many of us have found ourselves at the end of certain school years limping and gasping to the finish line, there are ways to count down to June with our sense of focus, simplicity, and tranquility in tact. Think of how much nicer the end of the year might be if we added even a modicum of mindfulness.

3. Meditate and/or take time to breathe (even if it’s only for five minutes).

4. Give reaching out to that “troubled” child another go. You never know!

5. Find time for stillness—whether inside the sanctuary of your home or outside in the sanctuary or nature. Or both.

6. Clean something in your classroom that hasn’t been cleaned in ages. Make it shiny.

7. Remember your Zen Practice and partake in it--whether it’s singing, quilting, running, or playing the ukulele. Do something that gives you joy.

8. Give. Love. Serve.

9. Subtract a piece of furniture, a rusty lesson or unit, or an outdated philosophy to streamline your practice for the fall. Have your new approach to the new school year start now.

10. Say no to a new request or obligation to make time for yourself and keep some peace in your practice for the end of the school year.

11. Spend time with your family.

12. Forgive someone for a transgression or misstep.

13. Do that one thing.

14. Eat healthily. Stock up on vegetables and fruit.

15. Eat unhealthily. Stock up on your favorite guilty pleasures.

16. Give yourself permission to do something you want.

17. Give yourself permission to do nothing.

18. Stay ten minutes later one day just to straighten up so you can hit the ground running in the morning.

19. Journal a bit about why you love teaching.

20. On your way to work one morning, stop by your favorite coffee or bagel place to get yourself a little nosh. Be present as you eat/drink it.

21. Be grateful for the job, the paycheck, and all of your students. Yes, even THAT one.

22. Listen to the birds. Look at the sky. Watch the clouds.

23. Forgive yourself for that transgression or misstep.

24. Start that blog you’ve been wanting to start.

25. Trust in The Universe. Trust in Yourself.

I hope some (or all) of these twenty-five suggestions will help make the rest of the school year just a little more pleasant and peaceful for you.

Because if there’s one thing I know for sure. . .

It’s that you deserve it. TZT

ZEN TEACHER ACTION STEP:

Instead of merely reading this and thinking, "What a nice post. That Zen Teacher guy sure can write up a storm," (Hey--MY blog, MY fantasy. . .), why not choose two or three of these and actually put them into practice. I know you can do it. I TOTALLY have faith in you. And if you're really brave, let me know how it goes.

Yesterday I talked about the importance of “small, good things”—those little things that make life worth living and renew us during times of stress and tension.

Naturally, some of my small, good things include holidays, laughter, family time, and special memories made with my children. But since part of my message concerns intentional and radical self-care, let’s look at some of my more personal small, good things that cater to my individual peace of mind.

They include:

Hot, buttered popcorn. When I was a child, my father would make a big bowl of popcorn and sit on the couch with his four kids and we would watch Happy Days, Sanford and Son, or The Rockford Files as we all pawed at the bowl. I'm sure this memory is why I love popcorn so much.

Coffee. So many of us enjoy a good cup of coffee. And I’m no different. But how often do we use our senses to enjoy each sip? How often do we notice the sound of the percolation in the coffeemaker? The rich aroma of a dark roast? The curve of the mug handle or the silver curl of steam as it rises from the pristine liquid surface? That hot first sip of heaven as it lands on our tongue? The deep, soulful flavor of a cup of black joe? Or the smooth, silky taste of our favorite flavored creamer?

Hazelnut creamer. Speaking of creamer, one of my great personal luxuries is using Hazelnut Creamer in my coffee. French Vanilla is a close second. Whenever my tastebuds get a hold of that Hazelnut Creamer, I always feel pampered.

Music. Again, the props go to my father whose record collection included some of the greatest music ever recorded. I grew up listening to Creedence Clearwater Revival, Bob Dylan, Janis Joplin, Eric Clapton, The Band, Bill Withers, Aretha Franklin, Al Green, Joe Cocker, Rod Stewart, John Lee Hooker, Jimmy Reed, and of course The Beatles and The Stones. Not a day goes by that I don’t use music to reboot my energy, lick my wounds, celebrate my triumphs, and/or alleviate my stress.

Real butter. I grew up in a house where finances dictated that we use margarine, not butter. But my grandmother used real butter. Consequently, every time we visited, I ran to the fridge proclaiming, “I want bread and butter.” Real butter is one luxury I’ve always allowed myself as an adult, especially because my popcorn jones.

Reading. I remember the intense feeling of freedom after graduating from college and knowing I could read anything I wanted to and that it wasn’t required. Pure bliss. There were at least four books lying around my apartment, overturned to whatever page I’d left off on. Sitting down for a few minutes to read a book still takes me to my happy place.

Orange juice. I love orange juice. But for most of my life, it just seemed simply too expensive to keep on hand, except on fairly rare occurrences. But that is changing. I have started treating myself to orange juice periodically just because it tastes good, I like it, and it makes me happy. But mostly, I justify it because I don’t do beer.

Breakfast in a diner. The older the diner, the better. The weirder, the better. I want to eat breakfast in a mom and pop diner at the edge of town where the waitresses have worked there since 1967 and the old men wear red flannel shirts and drive pick-up trucks. I want hot coffee, two eggs over medium, extra crispy hashbrowns, and sourdough toast. I want to overhear the old men in the next booth arguing about politics and looking at me funny because my nose is buried in a book. This picture is one of my greatest Zen Moments of my life.

Slippers. I realized a year or so ago that I enjoy wearing slippers so much around the house because they also make me feel relaxed, comfortable, and pampered. So I thought why not feel this way all the time? When it came time to buy a few new clothes for school this year, I bought three pair of loafers. Now I just slip ‘em on in the morning, no muss, no fuss, and—viola—slippers all day long.

These are just some of the small, good things in my life that make me feel renewed, relaxed, and rejuvenated. And do you know what they call those rare mornings on weekends or Spring Break or Winter Break or summer when I’m wearing my loafers, having breakfast in a diner, drinking my orange juice and coffee with Hazelnut creamer and listening to CCR on my earbuds?

I think they call that Heaven. TZT

***

Zen Teacher Action Step:

See if you can identify a "Small, good thing" in your life today. Be mindful of that thing that we might call one of our life's "Perfect Moments."

"Only a few weeks ago, the sonogram of Jean's womb/resembled nothing so much/as a satellite-map of Ireland."

Or in my own poem "Coyote Boys" where I was sitting at my kitchen table one night and simply captured what I noted about the moment when I wrote:

"A pack of coyotes/yammers in the canyon/behind our house/like a wild chorus/like a feral boy band/warming up before a concert."

These examples allow us to stop and take notice of what's going on around us in an artful and thoughtful way. It conditions us to value where we are, to search for details that matter.

I'm sure you're way ahead of me on this, but I only recently realized that I love poetry because it make me more mindful. In fact, poetry has been helping to keep me more mindful for over four decades, long before I knew what mindfulness was, before I knew why it was important, or before I possessed a vocabulary to communicate about it.

Turns out, poetry and mindfulness both give us permission to focus on the moment, to see the world through individual, specific details, to meditate and reflect on what we're seeing and hearing, and to notice and observe the life that is occurring around us right now.

Quite an amazing gift, when you think about it!

All I knew, growing up, was that I felt better when I read or wrote poetry because I knew instinctively that, in some way I was unable to articulate, I was accessing, exploring, and touching what was deepest about life, experiencing and exploring what mattered most. Even when I was teased or bullied for my love of poetry (I was a poetry-loving boy in a middle school full of tough guys who smoked cigarettes and spent evenings and weekends tinkering with their father's cars. . .In other words, boys in front of whom I would never use the word "tinkering"), I realized that I knew something they didn't. And it helped.

And allowing myself to read or write those words, observe those moments, and catalogue those individual moments of my existence quite simply, and without exaggeration, as I said, saved my life. TZT

*I was unable to find a reading of "Spring Azures," but please enjoy the video of another of my favorite Mary Oliver poems called "Wild Geese."

Although I’ve always liked many of his songs, I have never been what you would call a hard core David Bowie fan. So when I was hit so incredibly hard by his death last week from cancer at the age of 69, it caught me completely off guard. Clearly, I wasn’t alone, but the loyal and devoted fans had earned their grief so why, I asked myself, was I so devastated by the news of his passing? Why did I feel such loss?

In the next few days I formulated a handful of theories:

As many have said, he gave a voice to those who felt different, apart, detached, and “other.” And this included me.

He had always been a part of my life and his passing irrevocably changed the social/cultural landscape of my entire existence.

I recognized his gifts and talents as an artist and how he changed the world we live in through his commitment to his art, his audience, and his vision.

He was a part of a Rock ‘n’ Roll Royalty that is getting older and passing on; artists the likes of which we will never see again.

His various personas seemed so alien, so “other-worldly,” that the realization that he was a man, a human, and subject to the ravages of something as real and normal and "Earthly" as cancer seemed unthinkable, and so his death seemed, well, simply not possible.

And finally, as someone very close to me pointed out, at fifty-two I was also reminded of my own impending mortality.

In days following his death, I read the posts, perused the articles and essays, played his songs (Space Oddity, a personal favorite, I played multiple times, never having once before realized what a profound metaphor it is for death), and I was reminded of what an intelligent, wise, and deeply caring artist we had lost. But I came across one bit of Bowie trivia that, from the perspective of practicing a Zen Teacher lifestyle, absolutely blew my mind.

In surfing the net, I found out that David Bowie once answered a series of questions known as The Proust Questionnaire (think of the questions that James Lipton asks his guests at the end of every episode of Inside The Actor’s Studio). As you might expect, his answers were thoughtful and profound, but they were just as often both unpredictable and even funny. For example:

What person do you most admire? Elvis.What person do you most identify with? Santa Claus.What’s your greatest fear? Converting kilometers to miles.

And of course there was the response that warmed this English teacher’s heart:

What is your idea of perfect happiness? Reading.

But later in the questionnaire he was asked, “What is your motto?”

A very simple and straightforward question. However, Bowie’s response was anything but.

When asked “What is your motto?” Bowie responded, “What IS my motto.”

Mind blown.

Let me unpack my interpretation here a bit: If you are--as Bowie was--a person who makes mindful choices about how you want to live your life, what and who you want in it, and how you’d like to be seen by the world, and aren’t particularly concerned about whether or not everyone “gets” your path, then “What” is always an operative question.

No matter what the situation, Bowie seems to be saying that there are “What” questions that can help you figure out where you are, who is on your side, and how to find your way:

What do I want?What are the steps to get there?What happens if I do THIS?What does this mean?What will I do next?What is important?What are implications?What are the consequences?What value system do I subscribe to?What can I do without?What difference does it make?What kind of support am I getting from others?

In fact, the list of “What” considerations is endless and they result in mindful reflections on who we are, what we want, and where we're headed. And it took a man with orange hair, an alien gleam in his eye, and a skill with words, thoughts, and a six-stringed guitar to point that out to me.

David Bowie’s contribution to the world of art and music was an inspiration to me. And now I see that along with enjoying the songs, I still have so much to learn from The Thin White Duke, from Ziggy Stardust, from The Man Who Fell To Earth, and even from Major Tom, if only how to die with grace and dignity.

And by employing the position that "What IS my motto," I have a better chance of getting grounded again, if I ever find myself "floating in a most peculiar way.” TZT

The holiday season can be a time of beauty, love, and joy, but it can also be a swampland of stress, tension, and anxiety. We fill our minds and calendars with stuff to do, we put our bodies and spirits through the wringer in search of the “perfect” holiday (which is, of course, an oxymoron), and we overextend ourselves in the name of our family and friends. Before we know it, “Hark, The Herald Angels Sing,” turns into, “Hey, Harold, where’d you put my Thorazine?”

But it doesn’t have to be that way.

We can choose less.

We can meet our obligations and still choose to take care of ourselves.

We can give our loved ones a holiday to remember and still choose peace.

Real peace.

As a holiday gift from The Zen Teacher, I offer you some reminders for a low-stress, more tranquil Winter Break:

--When the chore list seems overwhelming, tell whoever is in charge of the list (whether husband or wife) to just give you two things to do and that you’ll do them. And then he or she can give me two more. Looking at a list of forty-seven things is daunting and makes us want to curl up with a blankie and an adult beverage. But anyone can do two things. Start there.

--When the to-do list looks like that picture of Santa rolling out his gift list as if it were an adding machine tape, Repeat after me: I don’t have to do it all. Now say it again: I don’t have to do it all.

--Save ten minutes before you go to bed and spend that time being still and silent. Meditate. Reflect. Say a gratitude sentence. Pray.

--Remember to eat some food that is good for you.

--Remember to eat some food that is not good for you.

--Remember to eat.

--Take a walk. But leave your smart phone in the house.

--Look at a cloud. Or a tree. Or better yet, both.

--Choose less. But do it better.

--Be present. (Without lamenting the past or worrying about the future.)

--On a day between now and when you return to school, mark the calendar for a period of anywhere between 30 and 120 minutes. When that day comes, for the time allotted, do absolutely nothing. You can sit. Listen to music. Maybe read, if you’re a rebel. But that’s it.

--Tell the fam you visit for the big dinner that even though you normally bring two dishes, you can only bring one this year. Everyone will survive.

--Participate in your Zen Practice (that thing that makes you lose all sense of time and that access your passion—running, writing, quilting, gardening, karaoke of old Kajagoogoo songs.)

This is by no means a complete list, but I hope these ideas help you remember that peace is a choice. No one will give it to you. You have to choose it for yourself. And there’s no point in doing everything perfectly if everyone else is calmly sipping egg nog, looking at Christmas lights, warming their hands by the fireplace, and otherwise enjoying the perfection you’ve created, while you’re sitting in the corner, hugging yourself in the fetal position and rocking back and forth.

Regardless of your religious persuasion, you must admit that part of saying grace before meals is simply the ability to be present with your Western Double Cheeseburger or your Teriyaki Chicken breast for a just a brief moment before you start tearing into it like a junkyard dog on the trail of a left over jerky treat.

That momentary, reflective pause before the initial bite is as much about:

--Noticing the food while you have it.

--Enjoying the company of those who are with you while you eat it.

--Respecting that the food actually, as if by magic, made it to your table.

--Showing gratitude for an abundant universe.

--Acknowledging that you’ll eat again today, when so many won’t.

But in this slap-dash, on-the-go, hundred mile an hour, microwave, Dino-Nugget world, we don’t often take the time to be present with our food.

But there’s no reason you can’t start now.

It doesn’t have to be a fancy dinner or a special occasion. In fact, I got the idea for this blog post ten minutes ago simply because I made it a point to sit still in front of some left over Fettucine Alfredo and a glass of lemonade. Hardly a feast fit for royalty. And yet, it was that simple.

But if you want it to be a special occasion, by all means:

--invite someone over.--light a candle.--play soft music

(You can do the last two, by the way, even if you don’t invite someone special over.

And I have.

And it’s been glorious.)

So no matter how limited your resources or how humble the spread, try to remember to take some time just to honor your food and be both present with it and grateful for it.

And finally:

Consider putting down the fork between bites.

Chew slowly.

Really taste it.

And with the right mindful attitude, you can even make the clean-up and dish-doing a mindful transcendent experience.

Why is this so important?

Because taking the time to be still and acknowledge and respect the food in front of you isn’t only about saying grace, it’s about exhibiting it. TZT

Meditation is a practice swimming in misconceptions. People often overcomplicate what is, in essence, a very simple--a deceptively simple--process. Here are five tips to lower your anxiety about meditation and to help you get started on a path to greater inner peace, both in and out of the classroom:

You’re Not Trying To Avoid Thoughts. Thoughts will come; there is nothing we can really do to stop them. But as we meditate, our goal is to simply notice these thoughts, experience them without attachment and judgment, return our focus to our breath, and then just watch peacefully as those thoughts float right on by. As someone once said, “Just because we’re sitting on the edge of a river and watching the water go by, doesn’t mean we have to jump in it up to our armpits.” You Don’t Have to Meditate For Hours. Meditation is a miraculously malleable activity that expands and contracts to fit the time you give it. I have reaped meditative benefits during a short walk, during five minutes parked in my car before going into school in the morning, or even during the three and a half minutes of a song. You haven't lived, for example, until you've meditated to Joe Cocker's "Bird on A Wire" from the live concert double album Mad Dogs and Englishman (which clocks in at 6 minutes, 30 seconds, if you're keeping track). It's a transcendent experience. In the end, you certainly can meditate for three hours straight if you want to. But you don’t have to.Breathe. It’s all about the breath. Your breath not only keeps you alive, it’s your ultimate Life Force. Focusing on the breath is the first step to meditation and it’s just as simple as it sounds. People often overthink this basic process. When my students come up to me and I can tell that they’re completely stressed out, for example, I say, “Breathe,” and shake my head as they suck in a big gulp of air. And then I say, “No, that’s a gasp. Not a breath. There’s a difference.” So let's not make it harder than it needs to be. Just breathe.Create A Ritual. You may like candles. You may not. You may like incense. You may not. You may like New Age music. You may not. Furthermore, the Zen tradition says I can’t judge you even if you do. Nevertheless, it might help to create a ritual surrounding your meditation habit in a way that makes it easier for you to commit to it. It’s Not About The Epiphany. Many people who start meditation are soon frustrated because they are silent and breathe for awhile and then they’re disappointed that they aren’t suddenly seeing rainbows and unicorns an tiny leprechauns with slips of paper in their hands that display that week's winning lottery numbers. Don’t do it for the promise of enlightenment. Do it as a practice of stillness, peace, and being in the moment. Considering how infrequently we do that, I think that’s reward enough. You may find, however, that with practice you’ll gain greater clarity of thought, deeper insight, and maybe just a spritz of Enlightenment.

But as far as the unicorns and leprechauns go, you just never know. TZT

“Summer afternoon—summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language.” --Henry James

*curated from a recent series of Tweets

Well, here we are: Right in the throes of summer. And if I know you--committed teachers that you are--you are already thinking ahead and preparing for your return to the classroom.

So as you plan for the fall, ask yourself:What is essential? You don’t need to teach everything at every moment. Emphasize the important. It will be enough. When I was a newbie English teacher and marked up essays, for example, I red-penciled every single comma and apostrophe error like an editor, thinking this would help them. Nah. Now I mark only the biggest things that are impairing their writing, as well marking some things that are going well. I recently heard some good advice, and now it’s one of my teaching mantras: “Give them one thing to think about.” What can you jettison? You may love that VHS tape you have on those Shakespearean insults. But throw that tape (and all the other ones you have in your cupboard) in the trash. They’re so 1981. That lesson on floppy disks or CD-ROM? Trash it. That conviction that you’ll never learn spreadsheets? You know what to do.Am I leaving time for stillness? Silence? Reflection? Summer is the best time to plan for stillness, silence, and reflection. If not now, when? This is your best shot to ensure that you give yourself some thinking time, some peaceful moments, and most importantly, some time to slow down and be still. Plan for it now before The Machine begins again.How will I take care of me? You know that Tsunami feeling—and I mean, you know, like a good Tsunami—of when the classroom door opens in the fall and it all starts again? Well, before that happens, make sure you have some idea of how you will take care of you. Put some mini-breaks, staycations, and down time on the calendar. Schedule your physical and mental health. And then stick to it.How can I be mindful of my choices? A teacher’s day is comprised of nothing so much as choices. Be mindful of those choices and ask constantly, “Is this the best use of my time?” “Is this going to move me in the direction I want to go?” “Will attending this meeting and finally snapping land me in prison?” You know, ask the important questions about choice.

How can I access my passion? We all have passions in our personal lives. And those teachers who bring those passions into the classroom own their teaching space, teach their students better, and just plain have more fun. Identify your passions, and then bring them in.

How can I simplify/clear/focus my physical space? With the space restrictions we face as modern teachers (forty desks in room? Show of hands!), it’s that much more important that we simplify our learning environments right down to their essence. What surface can you clear? What cupboard can you empty? How can you declutter, rearrange, and reorganize to maximize your breathing room? Thinking about it now will save you some time in September.

Am I being present here? In the summer? Looking ahead and planning is good; it’s helpful and important. But you’ve been given a break here in these couple months that not everyone is lucky enough to have. And we still have some time left. So before summer wanes and the classroom calls, I want to make sure you remember to be present and use the gift you’ve been given. Take a break. Bask in the sun (or near sun). Indulge in a hobby or passion. Get out and go somewhere, even if it’s to the neighborhood park.

I started doing meditation, guided visualization, and breathing exercises as a drama student. My teachers had us lie on the floor, and to relax our rhythms, we were asked to visualize meadows and forests and beaches. We focused entirely on the rhythm of our breath and tried to find those spaces between thoughts that would keep our minds focused on our work as actors.

Those teachers weren’t pushing relaxation because they wanted their actors to be lethargic, slack-kneed coach potatoes, but so that we would cultivate a sense of what those drama teachers often referred to as a “relaxed preparedness" for our stage performances.

Like a concert violinist or a professional athlete or a seasoned martial artist, any actor who is serious about her craft is going to do the relaxation work to achieve that peak balance between tranquility and fluid action. As Craig Wallace recently said to actors last month at Backstage.com, “In order for your work to flow out of your body, the channels of the body need to be relaxed and open.” And I’ll add that for those channels to be open and relaxed, you need to practice breathing, relaxation, concentration, and focus.

Naturally, of course, teachers would also benefit from this balance. In my mind, teaching has always been analogous to live theater; in fact, I often refer to the fact that, as a high school teacher, I do “five shows a day.”

Learning to breathe and meditate and visualize a greater sense of relaxation for our performance in the classroom, then, is critical. We should learn to be ready to perform, yet flexible and fluid in our movement through our day, our curriculum, and the physical space of our classroom. And at its optimum, our entire performance should arrive from a place of a focused relaxation.

It makes sense for teachers to be in a state of readiness that actors cultivate and nurture in order to do our own “shows,” to feel that sense of peace and relaxation in our performance, and yet imbue ourselves with a sense of excitement, purpose, focus, and concentration.

We need to learn to develop that sense of “relaxed preparedness” before we step on our “stage.”

Details are important. They make a difference. In fiction, a specific detail can build credibility and versimillitude. In comedy, the situational detail can sell the joke, but the telling detail can send it into orbit so it absolutely kills. In poetry, the precision of a detail can be an avenue directly into the heart. In a classroom lesson, as you know, omitting the proper detail can result in confusion and bewilderment, while including the right one can cause nothing short of epiphanies and revelations. As Zen Teachers, then, our goal is to find the right details and to nurture, celebrate and, most importantly, recognize and acknowledge them.

Not just in our classrooms, but in our lives.So often, though, we ignore the details in favor of keeping the machine rolling. But I want to suggest to you that, without seeing the details, and being mindful of them, the machine's not worth rolling. So right now, look around. Find the detail that defines this moment: Is it the bird singing outside the window? The pickle on your sandwich? The dog snoring in the corner?

The crash of the waves at the beach?

The ticking clock in your empty classroom as you prepare for next fall?

The distant drone of the Cessna overhead, as it cuts through the clouds? The swoosh of the espresso machine at the local coffeehouse? The humming signal of the A/C as it goes on in the family room? The breeze that tickles the hairs on your arm? The rhythm of the Brad Paisley song on the car radio? The yellow, pink, and orange buds as they sway on the rosebush outside the kitchen window? The bunnies hopping in the canyon below your patio? The cheers of the crowd at your daughter’s soccer game? The magical, windchime tringle of her laughter?

The silence and grace of your meditative stillness. What makes this moment. . . .this moment? Find the detail, and you’ll find the moment. TZT

It's easy to get caught up in The Machine and forget to take care of yourself. Even during the summer when there are typically fewer responsibilities and obligations.

So allow me to remind you. . .

Here are 31 things you can do RIGHT NOW to take care of yourself.

1. Stop and breathe.2. Create something.3. Listen to the birds.4. Sit down.5. Laugh.6. Read something good.7. Meditate.8. Clear off a surface.9. Take a slow, hot bath. 10. Slow down.11. Listen to music.12. Plan a new lesson for next year.13. Spend time with your pet.14. Spend time with your children.15. Spend time with yourself.16. Be still.17. Clean something.18. Seek out nature.19. Go one less place today.20. Buy one less thing.21. Help someone.22. Have a nosh.23. Drink some good coffee.24. Eat a really good dessert.25. Be silent.26. Look at art.27. Pray28. Take a couple things off your "to-do" list.*29. Express gratitude for something.30. Put Down Your Sword.**31. Be Here Now. -- Ram Dass

There are more ways, of course, but this should get you started.

I'd love to hear how it goes if you try any of these and if you found them helpful.

The key is not to forget to take care of YOU because YOU are the SELF in Radical SELF-care.

And besides, you deserve it. TZT

*I don't mean do them and cross them off, I mean just take them off the list. There have to be one or two that just really aren't that important. Really.

**This concept will be explained in my upcoming book The Zen Teacher: Creating Focus, Simplicity, and Tranquility in the Classroom